


The Best Kept Secret

by SadieYuki



Series: A Heart Before the Arc [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Peter Stark - Freeform, Peter is Tony's kid, in which everyone can't believe Tony is a father, peter gets his snark from his father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieYuki/pseuds/SadieYuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One by one, the Avengers (and Coulson) learn that Tony is not the man they thought he was, and he is hiding a massive secret from the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha

When Natasha received a summons from Tony Stark a little more than an hour after officially signing over the role of CEO to Virginia Potts, she was both unsurprised and apprehensive. Her mission was fairly simple compared to others she performed on a regular basis: find a way for Stark to hire her to fill the newly vacated position of being his personal assistant in order to observe him and assess his aptitude for being a part of the Avengers Initiative. So going into the signing with the intention of being alluring and intriguing to Stark was really all that was needed to get his attention—a couple open buttons on her blouse certainly helped matters. She consented to playing Stark’s game, going into the boxing ring with his bodyguard for an impromptu ‘lesson’, which went a little farther than Natasha intended, hence her weariness for this meeting. But she was confident she could manipulate the conversation enough to keep her mission running smoothly.

She returned to the Malibu Mansion at Stark’s request, and though he had already formally made the ‘request’ to hire her as his new PA, he said he had some things to discuss with her in person. She doubted it was contract issues or anything related to the hiring, so perhaps it was merely a formality to brief her on her duties. Maybe Stark already had work for her. Either way, it would be her first opportunity to observe the man in a solo environment.

While she was very adept at the art of silent walking, her heels clicked meaningfully on the floor as she strode through the front door ( _“Welcome, Ms. Rushman,” Stark’s AI greeted. “Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the lounge.”_ ) and into the lounge area where Stark was waiting for her.

Stark was pacing back and forth lightly, fiddling with his phone. He had changed since his boxing lesson earlier, and now wore dark jeans and a t-shirt over a long-sleeved undershirt. A faint blue glow shown through the shirt where Natasha knew the infamous arc reactor rested, embedded in the man’s chest. Natasha noted that the man looked uncharacteristically preoccupied.

“Mr. Stark,” she said, announcing her presence.

Stark looked to her and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “Miss Rushman,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming at such short notice.” _And uncharacteristically cordial._

“That’s my job now, sir,” Natasha replied obligingly, and Stark let out a small scoff.

“About that,” he started, facing her fully. “I need to talk to you about something pertaining to your duties.” He paused, visibly searching for the words he wanted. He nodded to himself briefly, looking down at his shoes, before bringing his gaze back up to match hers. “I saw what you did to Happy,” he said finally. “You’re obviously talented in martial-arts.”

“I've learned what I can,” she said carefully. While her attack on Hogan had been a complete accident—he moved into her blind spot, her body had acted purely on instinct—it served a purpose in getting Stark’s attention. At the time, she had been worried that she had blown her cover, pretty early too, but Stark had responded in a rather predictable manner; essentially ogling her. Now, however, that concern was back in full force. Perhaps Stark had read into the attack more than he let on. Despite his many shortcomings, the man was a genius.

“Would you be willing to use what you know to defend me?”

Natasha raised a brow. That’s not where she was expecting the thought to go. “I wasn't aware this was a bodyguard interview,” she said, keeping in character. “I thought I was—”

“No, no, this is hypothetical,” Stark waved off, but still keeping his serious tone.

“Well, then, yes,” she said finally, deciding to play along. “If you were being attacked and needed help, I would do what I can.”

“Does that extend to others?”

“I’d do what I can,” she repeated. “I wouldn't just stand and watch someone being hurt, if that’s what you mean,” she added, hoping to appeal to the angle Stark was playing.

“Good, good,” Stark nodded, almost distractedly. “Being my assistant means you’ll be privy to sensitive information, and I need to know I can trust you with it.”

“So that was a test of my character?” Natasha asked, finding the deep irony in that. She wondered what her hand-to-hand background had to do with privacy and sensitive info; she couldn't find the connection.

Stark nodded idly, though he looked severely distracted by another thought. “Okay, I’m gonna do this,” he said suddenly, “but so help me, if you make me regret it, I will destroy you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, still having no idea where this conversation was going. “Mr. Stark—”

“JARVIS,” Stark interrupted, ignoring her and turning away to grab a stress ball from the nearby desk.

“Sir?”

“Can you send Peter up? If he’s working on his project, tell him it needs to wait.”

“Right away, sir.”

Natasha had to admit she was confused. And it wasn't a feeling she particularly enjoyed. She prided herself on being able to read a situation, and she was very talented at gathering the facts necessary to do so. But these last few minutes were severely contradicting the intel she had been given about the man in front of her. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what was going on. Who was ‘Peter’? An employee?

She considered asking Stark, but he looked very fidgety, squeezing the stress ball every so often, then tossing it back and forth between his hands. Whatever was about to happen was clearly putting him on edge, which put her on edge in turn.

He suddenly whirled to face her and pointed at her with the same hand holding the ball, “I know you've already signed a nondisclosure agreement, but this exceeds it. As in, if you tell anyone about this, _anyone_ , it won’t be a lawsuit you’ll be dealing with.”

“Are you threatening me?” she asked wryly, smothering her feeling of amusement. She would be perfectly suited to handle any type of threat, not that Stark knew that.

“Yes,” he said bluntly, keeping eye contact with her. “That’s how serious I am about this. If you tell anyone about him, if you jeopardize his safety in any way, I will end you, do you hear me?”

Natasha twisted her lips. Just because she could handle it, that did not mean she appreciated being so blatantly threatened. Despite the nondisclosure agreement, she was fully prepared to tell SHIELD all the intel they needed to know about Stark in order to make a proper assessment on his qualifications for the Avengers Initiative. She would complete her mission like she was supposed to. Anything beyond that, she would have no reason to share.

She nodded her head once, “Completely, Mr. Stark.”

As she said the words, the elevator opened, and a short, scrawny kid with messy brown hair stepped out of the lift looking peeved. The boy couldn't have been older than fourteen as he definitely had not hit his growth spurt yet. A young intern, maybe? He looked around the room and his eyes fell on Stark first. He scowled at the man and started to march over to him.

“My project is due _tomorrow_ and I’m way behind, what’s so important—?” He cut himself off, just noticing Natasha in the room. “Uh, hi?” he said awkwardly, shooting a questioning glance at Stark.

“I know, this will just take a sec,” Stark said, clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder and turning him to face Natasha fully. “You know how I made Aunt Pep CEO?” he started, prompting a wordless nod from the kid. “Well, I’d like you to meet Natalie Rushman, my new assistant.”

“Uh, nice to meet you?” the kid said, just short of politely. He turned back to Stark with an incredulous look on his face. “Are you really telling her? How long have you known her?”

“A day, almost, closer to a few hours,” Stark shrugged, and the kid openly gawked at him. “Calm down, kiddo, I trust her.”

Natasha was admittedly taken aback by this, again her previous intel severely conflicting with what she was witnessing. Stark was acting entirely civil with her, not a single flirtatious action towards her like he had displayed that morning. He was also showing a willingness to trust her with something that was clearly very important to him, despite a history of being extremely wary of new people—of _any_ people really. And here he was with a kid probably not even in high school, introducing him to her after not-so-subtly threatening her in regards to the boy’s safety.

“Don’t be rude,” Stark’s chiding voice cut into her thoughts. “Introduce yourself.”

The kid flashed a guilty smile in her direction. “Sorry,” he said shyly, sticking a hand out. “I’m Peter Parker—”

“Wrong one.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Peter whirled to face Stark again. “One day.” When Stark raised an eyebrow and nodded, the kid sighed and turned back to her, sticking his hand out again. “I’m Peter Stark, nice to meet you.”

It took a moment for Natasha to regain her composure, but she gathered herself quickly and took his hand. “Nice to meet you, Peter.”

Peter grinned back at her, then turned to face Stark. “So I really do have to work on that project...”

“Yeah yeah, okay, just don’t blow anything up,” Stark joked as Peter muttered something about it being a biology project, and how could he _possibly_ blow something up. “I’ll talk to you later about what this means, okay? One more person in the circle and all,” he added more seriously.

Peter nodded once, already on his way back to the elevator. “Got it, Dad. Nice to meet you, Miss Rushman!” he waved, and a moment later, he disappeared behind the lift doors.

“So that’s Peter,” Stark said fondly, and Natasha wasn't fully sure how to react.

Tony Stark had a son. _Tony Stark_ had a son.

“You have a son,” she said aloud, unable to keep the incredulousness from her voice.

“Surprise,” Stark said, resuming tossing his stress ball between his hands. “It’s probably my best kept secret, if not _the_ best kept secret there is. And I hope that further impresses on you the consequences of being a whistle-blower,” he added sternly, fixing Natasha with a glare. “I can count on one hand the amount of people who know Peter is my son. One of them recently betrayed my trust, and Peter almost died because of it.”

“So you were really asking if I’d be willing to protect Peter if it were necessary,” Natasha realized, the beginning of the conversation finally making sense. Stark nodded. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Natasha hedged, looking for more information, “why do you go to such lengths to keep him a secret?”

Stark sighed, turning away from her. “There were several times when I was a kid where I was targeted in order to get to my father. Not that it ever worked,” he added bitterly. “But the danger was there and things happened. From the moment Peter came into my care, I decided I had to spare him from that danger. It’s already been proven people can get to me, and it would be a thousand times easier to get to a kid. And I’m not afraid to say that I would do anything for my son. It was better to not put him in a dangerous position in the first place.”

“So you created an alias for him,” Natasha supplied. “That’s why he introduced himself as Peter Parker.”

Stark nodded. “To the public, he’s Peter Parker. He goes to public school in Malibu, and Happy sometimes drives him to a bus stop a few away from the nearest one. There’s also a secret entrance to the mansion that Peter has access to so he doesn't have to be driven around everywhere. Happy goes to parent teacher conferences when they’re necessary, and by this point I think we've got the school convinced Happy’s his father,” Stark smirked. “A similar routine will be in place when we move to New York.”

It seemed like a good enough set up. Peter didn't seem like a kid who got into trouble, and if he was anything like his father, he was probably a good student as well. As long as disciplinary actions were kept to a minimum, a public school would have no reason to routinely check in with his parents. As for transportation, no one would look twice at a kid stepping off the bus every day, and it wasn't uncommon for parents to pick up or drop off their kid in a car at a bus stop either.

“So Hogan knows about Peter, and I can assume Miss Potts knows as well,” Natasha said, figuring that the title of ‘Aunt Pep’ meant there was familiarity there. “Is there anyone else?”

“Rhodey,” Stark replied easily. “Colonel Rhodes,” he clarified, though it wasn't necessary. “And now you.”

“The mother’s not in the picture?” Natasha asked carefully.

“She showed up with Peter a couple weeks after he was born, assured me I was the father, and left,” Stark said succinctly. “She later died from an inoperable brain tumor, which is why she handed him off in the first place.”

It really was a small circle, and it was nothing short of impressive that Stark had managed to keep the kid a secret for so long. With only three other people (and presumably Obadiah Stane, who would account for the instance of betrayal as well) knowing about the kid, it would have been very difficult to care for him in secret while he was growing up. Especially with the lifestyle Stark led, but Natasha was beginning to wonder how much of that was a lie. The kid clearly had a decent relationship with Stark, so it was safe to rule out any type of neglect, which would mean that the partying playboy the media liked to portray may not be the real Tony Stark. With a kid at home, Stark wouldn't have been able to bring home any one night conquests and risk them running into Peter.

Natasha made a note to ask Potts how much of Tony Stark’s media persona was accurate. If anyone would know, it was her.

“The reason I’m telling you all this,” Stark continued, breaking into her thoughts, “is because if you’re going to be my assistant, you’re going to see two different sides of me, and you need to be able to deal with both. You need to know that there’s a whole other piece of the puzzle to work with.” He paused, and sent her a serious stare. “Can I trust you?”

This was not what Natasha expected when she accepted this mission. She was prepared to be an observer, to act as Stark’s assistant when it became known that the position had opened. And while she would still be performing those duties, she was finding that there was a lot more to the position than she had expected. And there was a lot more to Tony Stark. She had been entrusted with the knowledge that the man had a son, something he did not give away lightly, and for the first time in her career, she felt a twinge of guilt for betraying that trust. Natasha knew well enough that SHIELD was not an airtight organization, and Stark was right, a leak of such information would be dangerous. If a terrorist cell got ahold of Peter in order to blackmail a mind like Stark, there would be disastrous consequences. Perhaps she’d be able to tell Fury and have the information left out of the report.

Content with a course of action, she nodded confidently. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter is going to feature a different Avenger meeting Peter for the first time, and each meeting will be in chronological order. This chapter with Natasha occurs during Iron Man 2 of course, and the next chapter will be Coulson, also in IM2. I'll let you know who the next chapter will be after each one.
> 
> For reference, Peter is 13 years old in this chapter, in eighth grade.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)


	2. Coulson

Phil felt like a babysitter. Minus the baby part, that was exactly what he was doing, but when Tony Stark was the man you were watching, it was close enough. Of course, it would have to be one of the most elaborate babysitting operations out there, because Phil couldn’t be bothered to actually sit and watch the man, despite how much he wanted to follow through on the Super Nanny threat. There were grunt agents to take care of the that.

But delegation had its disadvantages. When you weren’t the one personally overseeing the job, mistakes happened. Which is why Phil found himself descending the stairs to Stark’s workshop.

Entering the workshop, Phil noticed several differences right away. Well, it was really just one difference that had spilled over to the entire workshop space. A massive snake of metal piping took up most of the area right through the center of the workshop, so large that it actually seemed to continue though a newly-made hole in the wall. Dust and rubble littered the area, and right at the center of it all was Stark, covered in sweat, dust, and grease, tinkering away at the new contraption.

“Heard you broke the perimeter,” Phil said, announcing his presence.

Stark had the rare good grace to actually look up from his work. He should feel honored. “Uh, yeah, that was like three years ago, where’ve you been?”

“I was doing some stuff,” Phil replied easily, never one to turn down a verbal spar with Stark.

“Yeah? Well, me too. And it didn’t work,” Stark muttered. Phil had heard as much from Agent Romanoff; apparently Stark’s apology to Miss Potts was ill received. “Hey, I’m playing for the home team, Coulson,” Stark continued, voice lifting into aloofness as he focused again on his work. “You and all your bagless, furry, freak brothers. Now, are you gonna let me work or you gonna break my balls?”

Phil had almost stopped listening ( _I mean, bagless, furry, freak brothers? Come on, Stark._ ), his attention caught by the gleam from a box of old memorabilia. _That is_ not _what I think it is..._

Reaching into the box, he lifted out an old piece of Captain America’s shield. Well, not the _actual_ shield, that had been lost along with Cap himself when he crashed into the ice, but certainly this was an authentic memorabilia piece, either from development of the original shield or 1940s era advertisement. Phil leaned towards the former, but honestly, either one was one of a kind.

He held up the shield to show Stark. “What’s this doing here?”

Stark glanced up at him again, and a look of realization dawned on his face. “That’s it. Bring that to me,” he demanded, making a ‘bring it here’ gesture with his hand.

“You know what this is?” Phil asked, unable to keep some of the awe out of his voice, handing it over as instructed.

“It’s exactly what I need to make this work,” Stark said, taking the shield from him. Phil figured Stark probably knew exactly what the shield was, and Phil’s mouth twisted as he realized what the priceless item was about to be used for. _For the greater good, I guess._ “Lift the coil.” Phil followed the order, bracing his legs as he placed both arms under the piping and _lifted,_ Stark’s encouragement steady (“Go! Go! Put your knees in it, there you go.) as he positioned the shield under the coil. “And...drop it. Drop it.” Phil lowered the pipe with a grunt, and the moment it touched down, Stark spun around and slapped a level on the top of the piping. “Perfectly level.”

“Oh, so I _didn’t_ have to go grab my old board?”

Coulson’s gaze shot towards workshop door, where an annoyed looking teenager stood holding a beat-up skateboard. The boy had on a backwards baseball cap, with clumps of sweaty brown hair poking from the sides. His clothes were covered in dust (much like Stark’s), and there was a patch of oil grease on his cheek.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Stark shrugged unapologetically, returning the level to its original position. With _zero_ concern about the fact that a teenager—a _teenager_ —was standing in his house. He even seemed familiar with the kid. But even familiarity wouldn’t have gotten him through the front door and past security, so what the hell was he doing here?

“Kid, how did you get in here?” Phil asked, voicing his thoughts.

“Uh, through the door? You guys don’t have the best security.” Stark snorted, trying but failing to stifle a laughing fit. Phil glared in his direction.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” he asked, pointing at the kid with a deadpan glare.

Stark sighed dramatically, slapping the piping in front of him and ambling over to the boy. He threw an arm around the kid’s shoulders and sent Phil a long-suffering look. “Considering that Agent Romanoff has probably already spilled the beans to SHIELD, I might as well introduce you formally.”

“Who’s Agent Romanoff?” the kid glanced up quizzically.

“My ex-assistant,” Stark grumbled.

“Wait, _Natalie_ is a SHIELD agent?” he asked. _Interesting, the kid knows Romanoff._ The boy sent a smirk up at Stark. “Oh, wow, Dad, you really know how to pick ‘em.” _Dad? WHAT?_

“Shush,” Stark replied with an amused smile, shaking the boy lightly. _What is happening? I’ve been transported to a parallel universe where Stark is the father of a teenage son, that has to be it..._

The kid let out a chuckle as Phil interrupted with, “Actually, Agent Romanoff hadn’t disclosed that intel with me, which I would assume means only Director Fury is privy to that piece of information.” _That’s right, play it cool, Phil._

Stark grimaced, “Well, shit.”

The kid snorted. “You’re on a roll today,” he grinned, shrugging off Stark’s arm and striding forward towards Phil. “Hello, Agent Coulson, my name is Peter Stark,” he said, throwing his hand forward. “I go by Peter Parker everywhere except for within this house, nice to meet you.” As Phil took his hand, Peter tossed his head back towards his father. “Did I do it right this time?” Peter asked with an overly innocent tone.

Stark threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is a conspiracy,” he groaned dramatically. “You’re turning my own kid against me!”

As Peter returned his attention to Phil with a conspiring grin, Phil returned it with a firm shake of his hand. “Phil Coulson, nice to meet you, Peter.”

“Agent, _Agent,_ don’t let him fool you, Petey,” Stark warned seriously as an exasperated smile formed on Peter’s face. “His first name is Agent and don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

“Yeah, okay, Dad,” Peter said with an eyeroll. “I’m gonna go put my board back. Nice to meet you, Agent Phil!”

“You too, kid.”

After watching Peter leave through the workshop doors, Stark turned his attention back to Phil. “I’m busy, what d’you want?”

It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t asked earlier, but Phil supposed his statement was fair; he _was_ busy.

Rather than answer honestly, Phil found himself stuck on the latest development in the Stark household. “Peter’s new.”

Stark let out an irritated huff through his nose. “Uh, no, he was new thirteen years ago.”

Huh, so it was his kid and not just an adoption. “Romanoff knows?”

Stark shrugged. “It was necessary, if she was gonna be my assistant. My _fake_ assistant, thanks a lot,” he added with a sneer. “And of course she told Fury.”

“It’s her job,” Phil said noncommittally.

“Yeah…” Stark trailed off, looking oddly contemplative. “Look, I guess if you didn’t know, then that means she kept her promise and kept Peter off the books.” Stark pinned Phil with a hard stare. “And that’s all I can ask for. He’s a secret for a reason, and I can’t trust SHIELD with his safety.”

“Peter will be fine,” Phil was quick to assure. It was surreal, watching Stark assume the role of a protective father. Who would’ve thought Tony Stark had been a father all these years? He had an almost completely different personality where Peter was concerned. “He’ll be kept off books,” Phil continued, “and besides myself, Agent Romanoff, and Director Fury, no one will know about him. I understand your situation Stark.”

Stark snorted derisively, “I really doubt that.”

“You’d be surprised,” Phil countered, and Stark looked up almost curiously. “You’re not the first person we’ve made family allowances for. Peter won’t be the only child off books.”

“Is that so...” Stark’s mouth twisted as he absorbed that piece of info, lowering his gaze again. “Okay, well, you didn’t know Peter existed until five minutes ago, so what did you come here for originally?”

Accepting the abrupt change of subject, Phil shrugged. “Nothing. Goodbye. I’ve been reassigned.”

“Huh,” Stark hummed vaguely.

“Director Fury wants me in New Mexico,” Phil offered.

“Fantastic. Land of Enchantment.”

“So I’m told.”

“Secret stuff?”

“Something like that.”

“Hm.”

“Good luck.” Not that Stark needed it all that much. He had the talent. Not that Phil would tell him.

“Bye. Thanks.”

Thanks? Wow. Maybe Phil would throw him a bone. He held out a hand to Stark and said, “We need you.”

Stark returned the handshake with a firm grip. “Yeah, more than you know.”

“Not that much,” Phil hastened to add with a sly smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, everyone. I really wanted to focus on finding a job, and thus writing fanfic really took a back seat. Of course, I had a couple Star Trek plot tribbles to get out of my head, so those went up, but my other fics have kinda been neglected. But I'm back! Or at least I'm here with a new chapter :)
> 
> We're still in Iron Man 2, so Peter is still 13 years old here, but his birthday is coming up (in August).
> 
> You guys know that this scene happens after the birthday party disaster. Where was Peter during all of that, you ask? And how did the conversation with Fury go? As I've told some of you, I have plans to do a fic that shows all of the Peter-influenced moments in the Iron Man and Avengers movies. But that probably won't be out until this fic is finished. But the whole timeline is planned and everything, it's just a matter of actually writing it.
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that I up'ed the chapter count to 7. That's because I've decided to add a bonus chapter that originally was going to be in another fic in this series, but I decided it fit here much better.
> 
> Steve's chapter is next! And it's already halfway written, so the wait won't be nearly as long as this chapter was (sorry again!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	3. Steve

Due to his enhanced physiology, Steve had a rapid metabolism and as such required a much higher caloric intake than the average person. That being said, he was not in the mood to eat when Stark suggested the group go to a shawarma restaurant nearby. His gut had been hit one too many times, and he was at the point of exhaustion where he felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep a bite down. He knew once he had a chance to settle down and take a nap, he’d wake up ready to eat an elephant, but in the meantime, he figured he should avoid food, especially something that sounded as questionable as shawarma.

That didn’t stop him from tagging along when the rest of the group decided to go.

He sat at the table with his chin in his palm as his teammates ate leisurely around him. It was a very subdued meal; everyone was exhausted from the battle and seemed only able to focus on eating their food. The only sounds came from the restaurant workers around them who were idly cleaning up rubble. Steve admired their dedication, and even more so their willingness to make food for the hungry group of heroes.

And that’s what they were. Heroes. The city looked like a mess and cleanup would surely take weeks, if not months, but it was safe. They had stopped an alien invasion led by an actual _god_ —and that was still hard to wrap his mind around, aliens and gods—from taking over not only the city, but Earth as a whole.

Looking around the table, Steve recognized how much effort each of them had put into this fight, already being dubbed the Battle of Manhattan on various media outlets. Agents Romanoff and Barton came from a world of shadows and subterfuge, and yet they handled the open field like pros, not batting an eye at the unusual source of the enemy. Thor...well, he was still having trouble recognizing his _status,_ but he was a warrior through and through, and his strength and abilities proved invaluable. Dr. Banner had been a wild card, but when it came down to it, the Hulk seemed able to focus his aggression in the right direction.

And then there was Stark. Before the battle, if someone had told Steve that the egocentric billionaire had the ability to put anyone before himself, Steve would have laughed right in their face. But Stark had been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to save them all, and almost did in fact make that sacrifice. Even with the Hulk’s timely catch, and heart jumping roar, there had been those few moments where everything seemed to stop. When the little light of literal life on Stark’s chest had gone out. When the only thing on Steve’s mind was regret in how he had judged Stark’s character; in how wrong he had been.

As Steve lifted his head to make said admission aloud, he noticed the very same light from behind Stark’s shirt flicker. At the same time, Stark seemed to freeze a bit, slowly and deliberately placing his shawarma onto his plate and almost waiting…

The light flickered again, and this time Stark brought a hand up to his chest, eyes wide like something was wrong.

“Stark?” Steve’s comment drew the attention of the rest of the table.

“Something’s wrong with the reactor,” Stark supplied, voice pinched in pain. Steve knew there was...something in the man’s chest that was keeping him alive, but the mechanics behind it were way above him. He at least understood that if something was wrong with it, then it was bad news for Tony.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Agent Romanoff asked, sounding both rebuking and concerned. “You could’ve switched it out while we were at the tower.”

_Switched out, he has more of those things?_

“It’s not like I knew there was a problem with it, I thought it was just the suit low on power so I charged it and—ugh,” Stark grunted sharply, leaning forward in an attempt to curl in on himself.

Steve stood up in a flash, a fresh wave of adrenaline shoving his fatigue aside. “He needs a hospital—”

“No, just—shit,” Stark gasped. He was deteriorating, and quickly.

“He needs a new reactor,” Romanoff explained, standing in urgency herself.

“Where exactly are you gonna find one of those?” Banner asked, eyeing Stark in worry.

“Tower—workshop—”

“I’m on it,” Romanoff said, moving to the door. “I could use a lift,” she added, nodding at Thor.

“Of course.”

Things moved quickly after that. Barton called Hill for a quinjet to transport Stark to the nearest SHIELD facility with medical support, and minutes after arriving, Romanoff appeared with the new reactor and performed an...interesting operation to replace the old reactor. As it turned out, the old reactor had been cracked, likely upon impact when the Hulk had caught him, but considering the circumstances, things could have been a whole lot worse.

Despite the urgency of the moment, Stark seemed to be recovering quickly now that the reactor had been replaced. However, at the insistence of everyone involved, Stark would be confined to the medical wing for a while until he could regain his strength. This was not without protest, of course, but ultimately Stark’s fatigue helped them out a bit in the argument and he agreed to stay put.

Once the excitement had died down, most of the team had gone their separate ways, leaving Steve to keep Stark company (read: babysit). While he had agreed to stay put, he apparently didn’t see how this implied that he should be _resting,_ because he kept insisting that he needed to get stuff done and make some phone calls. Or more specifically, ‘one’ phone call.

“Seriously Spangles, I just need to make one call—”

“I’ve heard that before, one call will turn into five, then ten, then—”

“You don’t understand, I—”

“You need to _rest,_ whatever business you have can wait—”

“I won’t be able to rest until—”

Their argument was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and the pair turned to see Romanoff standing by the door; apparently not everyone had left the building after all.

The reason why became clear when she directed her attention at Stark and said, “I called Pepper, he’s on his way here with Hogan.”

Stark let out a relieved sigh and finally settled into the propped up pillows behind him. “Thank you,” he said gratefully. Romanoff nodded briefly before leaving the room.

Steve decided not to comment on the exchange. He knew Pepper Potts was a woman, and Romanoff was the type of person that was very precise with her words, so the ‘he’ she mentioned coming with someone called Hogan was clearly someone else. Steve thought back to the files he had received on Stark; perhaps she meant Colonel Rhodes. In addition to being Stark Industries’ military liaison, he was also a close friend of Stark’s. Despite that, Stark’s reaction was admittedly odd. Steve decided not to dwell on it; if this person was on his way here, he’d see who it was soon enough anyway. Instead, he pulled up a chair next to the bed and settled heavily on it. Now that Stark had finally calmed down, there was something he had to do that he’d been delaying for far too long.

“Look, Stark, I owe you an apology,” he started finally.

Stark avoided his eyes, focusing somewhere across the room. “You don’t owe me anything, Captain,” he said sullenly. “Everything you said was true. Well, most of it, but still, eighty-five percent maybe—”

“Damn it, Stark, I’m trying to be serious here—”

“So am I.” And Steve was inclined to believe him. There wasn’t an ounce of a challenging tone to his voice like there had been on the helicarrier. In fact, he sounded more resigned than anything, and that just made Steve feel worse.

“I misjudged you,” Steve continued. “I kept trying to see Howard in you—” Steve saw Stark’s wince and he cut himself off.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not my father,” he said bitterly, finally making eye contact.

“I know,” Steve said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner. Everything I read about you just made me angry. It felt like losing Howard twice.”

“Don’t believe everything you read, Cap,” Stark said wryly, looking away again.

“I don’t need to,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Because I saw what you did today. You fought just as hard as the rest of us, you worked in the team, and you flew a bomb into a wormhole with no expectation of coming back. I was wrong about you. You’re not pretending to be a hero at all, you already are one.”

Stark was silent for several moments, his gaze steadily avoiding Steve’s, and Steve chose to stay silent as he let the other man absorb his words. Despite the reports that Tony Stark was an inherently egotistical man, Steve was starting to see how little worth the man held in himself.

Stark looked like he was about to speak up when a commotion in the hallway grabbed both of their attention. Steve’s enhanced hearing was able to pick up some of the voices.

“You’re not authorized to be here—”

“I’ll authorize your _face_ if you don’t let me through!”

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to—”

“Stand down, Agent Veslar. Let the boy through.”

“Yessir, Director.”

A moment later, the door was thrown open, and a disheveled teenage boy burst through the threshold. Maybe fifteen or sixteen in age with messy brown hair, the boy’s eyes darted to the bed and locked eyes with Stark. _“Dad!”_ the boy cried, running to the bed.

Steve barely registered the word ‘Dad’ before Stark swung his legs over the side of the bed and wrapped the boy in a strong hug.

“I’m right here, kiddo, I’m fine, it’s okay—” Stark rambled into the mess of hair, attempting to soothe the boy in his arms.

“It’s not okay!” the boy argued, not relinquishing his hold. “I saw you on TV, I watched you fly a _nuke_ into _space_ —I _saw you fall_ —I thought you were _dead_ —you _called me, I’m so sorry—!”_

Stark pulled away and latched his hands onto the boy’s shoulders. _“You’re_ sorry?” he asked incredulously. _“I_ should be saying that—”

The boy shook his head furiously. “You called me when you were going through that wormhole, and _I didn’t answer_ because I left my fucking phone in my locker!” he yelled hysterically, voice cracking with unrestrained emotion. “I wasn’t there and you could have _died,_ I _thought you died_ —”

“Hey now, hey,” Stark said softly, moving a hand to the boy’s cheek. “I’m right here, alright? And it’s not your fault you couldn’t answer, you had no way of knowing I’d call you.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’re not even supposed to have your phone in class, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then stop beating yourself up. Never apologize for being a good kid, you got that?”

“I’m never leaving my phone in my locker ever again,” the boy said with a watery smile.

Stark chuckled. “I can’t argue with that. C’mere,” he said, pulling the boy to him again.

Steve felt like he was intruding on something very private, but shock kept him in place more than anything. Tony Stark had a son. Howard had a grandson. _Tony Stark had a son._ Romanoff must have known considering her earlier remark to Stark, and Fury must have known since he just let the boy through the guard of SHIELD agents in the hallway. Beyond Stark’s immediate circle of friends, Steve figured it was a safe guess that no one else knew about this boy being the heir to the Stark legacy. It would have been included in the personnel files he had been given prior to the mission if it was readily known information. Even his capture in Afghanistan (though referenced only briefly with heavy redactions) had been included in the files, yet any mention of this boy, even redacted, was completely absent.

Just watching this intimate display with his son showed Steve that there was an entire other side of Stark that he had never considered. He first became acquainted with the mask of Tony Stark—the part of him he showed to the press, to keep up appearances and to keep everyone out of his life and thoughts. He thought he had been starting to see the real Tony Stark; a man who, among several other things, had a crippling sense of inadequacy in himself and had shown he was more than capable of making the sacrifice play.

_“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you?”_

_“Genius, billionaire, fa-lanthropist.”_

Father. Suddenly Fury and Romanoff’s borderline _fond_ reactions made a lot more sense. He knew there were several other layers to Stark that would take time to uncover, but he never expected one of those layers to be that of a _father,_ and clearly one his son cared for very much. And it was clear to Steve that Stark adored this boy in turn, in the way he held him and comforted him now. After his first meeting with Stark, he would never have pegged the man as a good and caring father, but he was rapidly being proven wrong.

After several long moments, the boy pulled away and rubbed his arm furiously over his eyes. He took a moment to glance around the room, and his eyes paused on Steve as he finally registered his presence in the room.

“Wow, worst first impression ever, I’m sorry,” the boy chuckled in embarrassment, his hand resting on the back of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Steve said with a smile. “It runs in the family.”

“I’m wounded, Cap,” Stark said dramatically, slapping a hand to his chest.

The boy’s eyes darted from Stark back to Steve, and as his eyes narrowed, Steve could almost see the gears turning in his head. While Steve had changed into sweats and a t-shirt since entering the facility, he had yet to take a shower and, barring the clothes, looked like he had just come from battle. Suddenly the boy’s eyes widened as he came to a conclusion.

“You’re Captain America,” he breathed before slapping a hand to his face. “Fuck me, I’ve been blubbering like a crazy person in front of Captain America.”

Stark laughed loudly as the boy groaned in embarrassment. “It’s okay, kiddo, I was enough of a snarky ass to sustain us both,” he said with a smirk, which turned to a full smile when he got a laugh out of the kid. He turned his gaze to Steve, and Steve returned a resigned smile. “Time for attempt number two,” he said, looking back to the boy. “Peter, I’d like you to meet Captain Steve Rogers,” Stark said with a flourish, and Steve was almost taken aback by the lack of sass in the introduction. “A.K.A. Captain Star Spangled Banner.” There it was. “Cap, this is my son, Peter.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” Steve smiled cordially, extending a hand.

Peter shook it with a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.”

Steve shook his head lightly. “Steve’s fine.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” he repeated brightly.

“So kiddo, how’s your school, is everyone alright?” Stark asked, turning Peter around again.

“The school and everyone are fine, the battle never came near us,” Peter responded readily. “Gwen’s dad was out there obviously, but she’d been texting him and stuff so I think he’s fine. Ms. Lafell had a sister in the hotspot too but she was on the phone with her when I left. They had a live feed on the classroom TV the whole time, so we were all watching...”

School...wait, Steve had heard that earlier...

_The air was tense in the quinjet, the events of earlier and those about to transpire heavy on everyone’s minds. Steve didn’t mind the silence—or rather, the lack of sound outside of the roar of the jet; he understood that everyone had their own way of preparing for battle._

_Steve was moderately surprised to see Romanoff make her way towards the comms panel. The three of them, and Stark, had already been outfitted with earpieces so they could keep in contact should they be separated, as was likely, and they had technically stolen the jet, so he was having a hard time trying to figure out who she would be calling._

_“Peter?” she said softly._

_Steve realized Romanoff was probably trying to keep this conversation private, but selective hearing didn’t always work when needed, and Steve couldn’t just turn off his super hearing. He tried to be respectful, but he heard the crackle of static as the line came alive—_

_‘In school. In Queens.’ That was **Stark’s** voice. Why did Romanoff feel the need to open a private channel to talk to Stark? Surely anything that didn’t have to do with the current situation could wait, and anything that **did** have to do with it should be shared with the team._

_“All the more reason to keep this contained,” Romanoff replied. Steve heard a grunt from Stark before the line went dead, which he assumed was Stark’s version of acknowledgement. Steve shook his head. Would it kill Stark to be a little more considerate?_

_He looked to the side, expecting to see Romanoff’s annoyed expression, but was surprised to see that she actually looked concerned._

_“Everything alright?” he asked, and Romanoff uncharacteristically started at the question._

_“All set,” she said, collecting herself quickly._

Peter had been in school when the battle broke out, and not all that far from the main event. In fact, his home had been the epicenter of everything. No wonder Romanoff, and of course Stark, had been concerned. If the invasion had happened not much later in the day, and Peter could have been in serious danger.

_“I saw you fall—I thought you were dead—you called me, I’m so sorry—!”_

Steve’s heart broke, realizing that what would’ve been Stark’s final act had been to call his son, and they hadn’t been able to have that moment. Steve could only imagine what Peter had gone through, watching the live feed of the battle, seeing what happened to his father, and being unable to talk in those final moments. Watching the pair now, despite having barely met one and never having seen this side of the other, Steve was supremely glad that they had this chance together.

Rather than announce his exit, Steve left the room silently, allowing the family of two the privacy to take the much needed comfort in each other. He didn’t think Stark leaving would be an issue anymore.

It was a week later when Steve found out that Peter truly was his father's son, having apparently helped sneak him out of the SHIELD facility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, woo! Sorry it took so long! Civil War really reignited my motivation for this series, so I'll try to ride that high as long as I can. And Tom Holland's Spider-Man was so great! But remember, TASM will still be the primary source of Spider-Man material in this fic, though I'll probably start drawing some elements from the new version as it interacts with the MCU.
> 
> Obviously we're in The Avengers with this chapter, and we're pretty much right after the events of [Splashdown](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3377618), so Peter is 15 years old, wrapping up his sophomore year. Still pre-bite! Peter probably comes off as very emotional in this, and that was intentional. Remember he's literally just coming from the school after Splashdown happened, so he's still a bit keyed up from everything.
> 
> Bruce's chapter is next! I can't give you a timeline on when it'll be out (work is kicking my butt), but stay tuned!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> Sadie out.


	4. Bruce

Bruce wasn’t wholly sure what he was doing here; here being the front lobby of Stark Tower. Of course, Bruce found that he really didn’t know what he was doing at all nowadays. Ever since the Chitauri attack, Bruce found himself floundering in a post-alien-invasion-attempt world. Laying low didn’t seem like much of a priority anymore, nor did it feel right.

As much as he’d enjoyed the work he’d been doing in Kolkata, Bruce wasn’t sure that was what he was meant for anymore; not that he’d ever really been meant for it in the first place. It had been a means to an end at the time; it was a way to help people in need while staying off of the US government’s (and SHIELD’s) radar, and it kept him away from places where the Other Guy would cause too much damage if Bruce lost control.

Not that he’d been successful in those efforts. SHIELD had proven that they could track him down even in the most remote of settings, so what was the point of going to such lengths again?

Bruce was wary about staying in New York too long, considering his past incident there, but in truth, the Other Guy wouldn’t be able to do much more damage to the city than had already been done by the Chitauri.

Famous last words, right? Hopefully not.

So when Tony Stark invited him to chat at the still under-reconstruction Stark Tower, Bruce found he didn’t really have a reason to decline the offer. In truth, he’d enjoyed working with Tony, despite the circumstances that necessitated the collaboration. The short stint on the helicarrier had reawakened a desperate longing for research and discovery that he hadn’t truly felt since being forced to abandon his lab seven years prior.

The potential future of being able to continue his research or collaborate on something new did nothing to settle his nerves as he looked around the sleek lobby. His worn, meager clothes and travel-tried duffle bag felt doubly out of place, surrounded as he was by formal business attire and briefcases.

“I actually can’t remember the last time I stepped foot in the front lobby, you should feel honored,” Tony’s voice somehow managed to carry over the din of people going about their business and the clanging of construction taking place above.

“Do you fly _everywhere_ with the suit?” Bruce volleyed back easily, turning to face the approaching billionaire. Tony both fit in and stood above the milling crowd, dressed in an expensive suit and signature aviators, but striding across the floor like he owned the place...which, to be fair, he did.

“For the record, we do have a parking garage below the building,” Tony said at a normal volume as he reached Bruce. “And because this tower is the height of modern architecture, we even have an elevator that goes from the garage up to the penthouse.”

“Who knew technology could’ve advanced so far while I was away?” Bruce said, and Tony grinned appreciatively as Bruce played along. Bruce was surprised by how easy it was to converse with this man, but at the same time he thought he understood. After all, Tony had repeatedly indicated that he was more comfortable being around Bruce than Bruce was comfortable with his own self. It was a refreshing change to the typical heightened caution he got from people who knew about the Other Guy.

“You wanna try out that technology now?” Tony asked, already starting towards the elevator. Bruce followed, suddenly all too aware of, and anxious to get away from, the stares that were following them.

“I’m surprised to see so many people working,” Bruce said as they walked, trying to fill the silence between them and settle his anxiety in the process.

Tony merely shrugged. “The thing is, they’re all here voluntarily. Anyone who asked for it has been granted paid admin leave, no questions asked. I’m not gonna make people come into work after a disaster like this if they’ve got better things to worry about. People’s homes were destroyed, lives lost...going to work is one less thing on their mind right now.”

The elevator door opened as they reached it without needing to press a button, and Tony muttered a floor number and the elevator moved without further prompting. Despite the prior jokes, Bruce realized this may actually be the height of modern architecture.

Bruce closed his eyes tightly as blood pounded in his ears, and he could almost hear the frantic beeping of a long abandoned heartbeat monitor. He gripped the handrail behind him—he hoped he managed the feat discreetly—and silently prayed that the elevator ride wouldn’t last as long as the dozens of floors would suggest—  
A slight tickle of wind brushed his bangs across his forehead, and while at first he dismissed the feeling as air conditioning, the draft had a very particular smell associated with it—

Bruce opened his eyes and immediately reaffirmed his grip on the rail behind him. They were still in the elevator, right...?

“Height of modern architecture, right?” Tony drawled beside him, with his unique flair that came off as both bored and braggadocious. “Why have elevator music when you can have your choice of scenery? I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been antsy to hit the beach...”

Bruce stared in awe at the scene before him. The interior paneling in the elevator had revealed themselves to be high quality screens, which were currently displaying a highly realistic 360-view of a gorgeous deserted beach. But more impressive than the stunning visuals were the surround sound audio track of seagulls in the distance, waves crashing on the shore, and wind rustling the grass-covered dunes, and the distinct scent of brine. Bruce felt himself get lost in the stimuli, and for a moment, a brief moment, he could forget that he was currently trapped in a suspended metal box and pretend that he was enjoying the open, vast shoreline.

“But, you know, speaking from experience, sometimes you have to work to get your mind off the bad stuff,” Tony continued, almost studying Bruce out of the corner of his eye. Bruce appreciated that he decided to continue the previous conversation without actually addressing his visible anxiety, but as Tony spoke and the distant sound of waves soothed his ears, Bruce felt his heart calm and let himself be immersed in the welcome distraction. “So, we have the safe areas of the building open for business while everything else gets fixed.”

“How’s construction going?”

Tony pursed his lips. “It’s going,” he replied neutrally, though it was clear he wasn’t thrilled with the pace. “I might have to rename the tower though. D’you have any idea how long it took to place the letters for STARK?”

Bruce wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, so he merely shrugged.

“The tower has bigger structural concerns than the outside branding, so I’ll probably leave it as is,” Tony said idly. “How does Avengers Tower sound?”

“Less vainglorious than Stark Tower.”

Tony sent him an approving smirk just as the elevator doors opened. Bruce recognized it as the penthouse area, the very same that had taken a substantial amount of damage during the fight. The outdoor window walls were boarded with plywood, and there was still a crater in the center of the room from when the Other Guy had turned Loki into a rag doll.

Tony must have noticed his gaze. “I’m entertaining the idea of keeping that as is, as a monument or something. It’s great. I already had JARVIS save a video of it.”

“The whole floor or just the crater?” Bruce asked. He wasn’t actually sure if Tony was joking or not.

“Just the crater,” Tony snorted. “Pepper might kill me though, so maybe not. The video will do. I’ll send you a copy.”

Bruce had a feeling he’d end up with a copy of that video regardless of if he wanted it or not, so he chose not to reply.

“So,” Tony said grandiosely, turning to face Bruce fully. “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here.”

“Well, I was surprised to hear from you so soon. I thought SHIELD would keep you in medical a bit longer,” Bruce said, skirting the actual question. He was honestly shocked to see Tony up and moving around so much, especially since the last time he saw the man, he’d been reclining in a hospital bed in a SHIELD medical facility, recovering from his damaged arc reactor. He knew the damage had been caused by the Other Guy catching Tony as he fell from the wormhole, but it was one of the few things he refused to feel guilty about. He knew the other option would have been to let Tony fall, and that wouldn’t have been acceptable at all.

Tony huffed with a small smirk. “I had a tiny bit of help getting out early, but I’m fine. Business to run, cleanup to oversee, green rage monsters to recruit...I’ve got a busy schedule.”

Bruce blinked. “Recruit?”

“What’re your plans moving forward, Banner?” Tony asked, tone easing into something a bit more serious.

“Career plans or life plans?”

“They don’t have to be exclusive.”

Bruce shrugged, looking around the penthouse again as he tried to formulate an answer. He had no idea what he wanted to do moving forward.

Well, that wasn’t implicitly true. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but he didn’t know how to make those wishes a reality. He wanted to continue his research, he wanted to start _new_ research, and as much as working on the helicarrier had made him anxious, that lab had reignited his scientific passion. Unfortunately, to his knowledge General Ross hadn’t given up his pursuit of him, and it wasn’t realistic to settle down and return to his lab at Culver. And he wasn’t sure SHIELD would protect him from that any longer now that the Chitauri crisis was over.

“Here’s the thing,” Tony said after a moment. “Avengers Tower doesn’t make all that much sense if I’m the only one living here.”

Bruce blinked. “You’re asking me to move in with you?”

He almost hoped that Tony would respond with more banter or something, to give him more time to process, but Tony’s look remained earnest and calm as he continued.

“Listen, your genius is absolutely wasted if you’re constantly hopping around to off-grid locations trying to stay off government radar. While I’m not sure if your contract with the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project was ever revoked due to the whole ‘being on the run’ thing, I know that it expired on its own last year because you never signed an extension. So, you’re a free man in the eyes of the workforce. I want to hire you for R&D.”

Bruce blinked again, a bit thrown by the offer. “Tony—”

“You’d have your own lab, unlimited resources, a stable building that didn’t fall apart the last time you Hulk’ed out and is only being made stronger as we speak,” Tony said, waving a hand vaguely. “And,” he paused, giving Bruce a level look, “I can keep General Ross off your back.”

Bruce would be lying if he said that last part wasn’t a major selling point. While he hadn’t seen the man since the incident in Harlem, he wasn’t disillusioned to the fact that Ross still viewed him as property of the US Government and was willing to bend a lot of rules to get him into custody.

“You’d have free reign to pursue any research you want, and any products you may develop will have your name on the patent. Of course, the Board may kill me if we don’t at least announce the release through SI, but on paper and for royalties, it’d be all yours.

“This penthouse is more of a communal living space. You’d have your own wing; your own rooms, bathroom, lounge, all that fun stuff, but the kitchen and this whole area is open to all of the residential floors. Which right now is me, Pepper when she’s in New York, you hopefully, and one other person you’ll meet if you decide to move in. The living situation is part of the deal.”

“Avengers Tower,” Bruce mused. “Planning on inviting the rest of the team to live here?”

Tony shrugged, “I’ve got the space, and this has to be better than whatever SHIELD has them set up in. Thor...I mean, the offer will be there, but I’m not actually sure how much time he spends on Earth, let alone in New York. But we’ll get there eventually. Right now, my priority is making sure you have a roof over your head that doesn’t say Oscorp or US Government on it.”

Though Tony’s tone was light and flippant, Bruce knew the offer was genuine and didn’t come from a place of corporate greed. He was selling the offer like the businessman he was, but Bruce recognized the extended hand of friendship despite not having seen it in years.

Being on the run had many disadvantages, the most poignant of which was loneliness. It was impossible to settle down and risk forming connections with someone when the possibility of an incident and succeeding departure was ever present. It would be nice to be able to have a place to settle into; a place he could routinely return to after a hard day’s work, free of the fear of needing to leave everything behind at a moment’s notice.

Bruce trusted Tony. More than he trusted himself. That would have to be enough.

“What’s the rent like?” Bruce asked finally.

Tony grinned, a true, genuine smile that Bruce had the impression was a very rare sight. “All you gotta do is keep one thing to yourself, and you’ll be square.”

Bruce shook his head distractedly; he did _not_ need details about Tony’s love life. “I don’t care who you bring home, Tony.”

Tony snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m talking about a more permanent fixture in the tower. I’m trusting you with something kinda major here, and as long as you can live up to that, you have a place here. Something about you though, I don’t think this’ll be a problem.”

Bruce was getting more confused by the minute. “Okay...?”

Tony waved a hand again, this time beckoning him back towards the elevator. “I’ll show you to your rooms in a bit, but first there’s someone you need to meet.”

Bruce nodded, following him back to the elevator. He swallowed down the rising anxiety; the environmental feature helped with the claustrophobia a bit, and he knew this would be a recurring encounter by choosing to live here, but it was still something that would take time. It had been a long time since he’d had to regularly use an elevator.

“You know where we’re going, J,” Tony’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

_“That I do, sir.”_

The elevator seemed to be travelling farther than a few floors. Tony had mentioned that there were multiple residential floors, one of which he assumed was Tony’s, and another of which was his own, and he mentioned Pepper Potts, but if Tony was taking him to meet someone, how many floors away did they live? How many residential floors were there? One for each Avenger at least, if that was Tony’s intent, but this seemed to be taking longer than he would have thought; anxiety extending time aside.

“How many residential floors are there?”

“Hmm?” Tony looked like he’d been startled out of his thoughts. “Oh, there’s only eight, but each floor has plenty of space. If it became an issue, we could double up on each floor if necessary. Mine’s taken though, sorry Banner.” Tony winked, and Bruce assumed he meant Pepper shared space with him. “I figured you could have the space below the communal level; that way you could use the stairs instead if you wanted.”

Bruce swallowed down the rising emotion of gratitude building and simply nodded his thanks. “So I’m assuming we’re not going to one of those floors right now?”

“Nope, we’re going to my personal workshop. Well, the one I have set up here. My favorite workshop is in Malibu but as we haven’t invented teleportation yet, I needed to set up shop here,” Tony shrugged.

The elevator came to a halt, and Bruce followed Tony down a sleek yet barren hallway that quickly let to a large transparent wall that opened up to a vast workshop space that looked like it may take up at least a quarter of the entire floor.

Tony quickly typed in an access code on the nearby keypad and once the doors opened he immediately started heading towards the main work area.

While initially Bruce tried to take in as much of the workspace as possible, he was quickly distracted by a faint hissing sound associated with melted metal, and more so by the person working in the area of the noise. It was a kid; tall but lanky and hunched over a work table. His eyes were squinted as he focused on whatever project it was that he was working on.

Tony grunted in annoyance as they approached, and at first Bruce thought it was because of the kid. Bruce honestly wasn't shocked by Tony’s reaction one bit. After all, Bruce knew of several old colleagues that would have been touchy if an intern started poking around in their lab without permission. Lab and workshop space was sacred, and using another person’s space and equipment was a big no-no. Not to mention dangerous, especially in a mechanical workshop like this one. _Especially_ when they were as young as this kid seemed to be. He hardly looked old enough to be an undergrad intern, let alone a graduate student who may have a bit more leeway in workshop access, but certainly not in Tony’s personal space. Where was the kid’s supervisor?

“Dum-E, what the hell? You never hold the magnifier that well for me.” Bruce almost chastised Tony for calling the kid a dummy, but before he could, he noticed that the kid was holding a soldering iron while the robot next to him was the one holding the magnifying glass. Was the robot really named Dummy?

“Dum-E just likes me better,” the kid smirked, not taking his eyes off his soldering. _I guess it is,_ Bruce thought, watching the scene with interest. Tony didn’t seem at all upset about the kid’s presence; in fact, he looked like he expected it.

Next to the kid, Dum-E whirred happily in agreement. 

“JARVIS, my kids are ganging up on me,” Tony lamented.

_“It would seem so, sir.”_

“Your kids?” Bruce asked faintly. Surely he didn’t mean...

“You don’t call your robots your kids?” Tony returned with a smirk.

“I hope you’re not calling me a robot,” the kid said, wiping the iron on the solder sponge and replacing it in its holder.

“No, I’d learned how to procreate with women by the time you came around,” Tony replied, causing the kid to snort. “What’re you working on, kiddo?”

“Your grandkids.”

Tony sputtered. “Okay nope, that joke officially went too far. I am _not_ old enough for grandkids.”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Dad,” the kid said. Bruce had had a feeling at the beginning of the conversation, and the evidence had only piled on as it continued, but the word ‘Dad’ definitely confirmed it. Tony had a kid. _What?!_

“I love how callously you throw the word ‘Dad’ around now,” Tony said, bringing up a hologram ball and tossing it towards the kid. The kid bobbled it for a moment—which was fascinating in itself because it was a _hologram_ —but he eventually got it under control, color dusting his cheeks in light embarrassment. “And you get on _me_ for introducing you to Agent Smirnoff after a day.”

“Hours, not a day,” the kid returned, trying to take back control of the banter from Tony. He threw the ball away from himself and across the room at a bullseye that had appeared; it hit the second-most inner ring. “And I figure if you’re letting someone in here, you probably have the intention of introducing us,” the kid said with a shrug, turning back to face them fully. His mouth twitched into a mischievous smirk. “At least this time it wasn’t accidental.”

Tony snorted. “True.”

“How do you accidentally introduce your secret spawn to someone?” Bruce asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, Dad,” the kid said readily, latching onto the unwitting fodder and sending Tony another smirk. “How _do_ you accidentally introduce me to—”

“Quiet, spawn.”

“He’s definitely yours,” Bruce said idly.

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Tony said.

“I’m not sure _I_ do,” the kid followed promptly.

“And with _that_ glowing remark,” Tony said, glaring good naturedly at the grinning kid, “Bruce, this is my son, Peter. Peter, Bruce.”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said politely, standing up from his seat to shake Bruce’s hand. “If my dad’s giving you the grand tour, you must be staying around for a while.”

“Bruce’s gonna be staying at the Tower with us,” Tony said once they separated. “That cool, kiddo?”

“Fine with me,” Peter shrugged, grinning at Bruce. “Not like we’re pressed for space or anything.”

Tony grinned, clapping his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Tower, Banner.”

Peter squinted suddenly, giving Bruce an intense look. “Wait. Bruce _Banner?_ As in Dr. Bruce Banner?” Bruce swallowed down the initial pang of unease that he felt. Of course the kid recognized his name, Tony had done enough research on him leading up to the team up. Bruce could only imagine the footage Peter had seen of the Other Guy rampaging around in Harlem.

“How are you just placing that now?” Tony asked incredulously.

Peter shrugged, looking a tad uncomfortable. “I didn’t recognize him, I guess.”

Bruce held back a comment about how his lack of height and green skin may have attributed to that, but Tony didn’t seem content with the answer and gave Peter a long, considering look.

Tony walked behind Peter, eyes narrowing at the magnifier still held in place over the circuitry on the desk. “Dum-E,” he said shortly, making a ‘gimme’ gesture with his hand. The robot arm stuttered a moment before moving the magnifier a few inches to the left of Tony’s outstretched hand. “You gotta be kidding...” Tony grumbled, snatching the offered glass with a pointed glare aimed at the robot. He looked through the lens critically before looking down at the circuitry.

“JARVIS, pull up an eye chart, will you?”

_“Dad.”_

“An old lady doesn’t need a magnifying power this intense to do fine needlepoint, you’d think you were working on nanotechnology with this thing,” Tony said disapprovingly. “Read the chart.”

Peter pursed his lips before taking a cursory glance at the holographic chart now displayed. “E...” Peter squinted ever so slightly. “P...P? Are they allowed to double the letters like that? Uh, T...is that the greek letter Phi? That’s not right...”

“Aaaand that’s enough of that,” Tony said. “I don’t know how you’ve hidden it this long...you know, _that’s_ probably why you’ve been having so many migraines.”

“Maybe,” Peter grumbled, averting his gaze. “I can still read the board in school and stuff—”

“When you’re sitting in the front seat, I’m sure. How many times have you had to bum notes off of someone?”

Peter’s silence was all the answer Tony needed. Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Before you keep working on your kids, you’re doing an eye exam with JARVIS, and then we’re getting you glasses.”

Peter groaned dramatically but didn’t put up much more resistance, flicking his eyes briefly in Bruce’s direction before nodding. Maybe Peter simply didn’t want to argue the subject in front of someone he didn’t know very well.

Peter looked like he was about to leave then, but he hesitated and looked towards Bruce again. Bruce’s gut clenched anxiously; Peter might have his own perceptions of the Other Guy and might not be comfortable sharing living space with him after all. And as much as Tony may accept him and the Other Guy, Bruce had a feeling Tony would put his son’s comfort above his own—

“Do you think you’d have time to talk about your work on gene transcription in relation to DNA damage?” Peter said, face alight in restrained excitement.

Bruce blinked and peripherally noticed Tony rolling his eyes with a fond look aimed at the ceiling. “Uh...”

“Mr. Fanboy here is part of the rental agreement,” Tony said, unable to hide his grin. “Didn’t even fanboy this hard over Cap.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed but he didn’t seem deterred. “I’ve read most of your biochemical publications, if not all of them.”

It was then that Bruce realized that Peter’s recognition of his name hadn’t been from his involvement with the Avengers, but rather for his academic work. Bruce took a moment to relish in that; it had been awhile since someone had recognized him as Dr. Bruce Banner, PhD., completely bypassing the Other Guy.

“Kid grows up around robotics and I’m still gonna lose him to bio,” Tony sighed, giving Bruce a ‘woe is me’ look.

“If I’m gonna be living here, I think I’ll have plenty of time to talk about it, kid,” Bruce said, and Peter’s eyes lit up in excitement.

 _“Awesome,_ thanks, Dr. Banner!”

“You’re getting an eye exam before you talk shop on anything,” Tony said firmly.

_“Dad.”_

_“Peter.”_

Bruce grinned at the squabbling pair, and he found himself looking forward to settling in at the Tower. For the first time in a long time, Bruce felt excited for the future that awaited him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! New chapter! I decided to do that weekly Marvel Movie Marathon thing, and The Incredible Hulk was the week before last, and that really inspired me to get this finished. That and I got a good chunk done after watching Thor: Ragnarok. What does that mean for future chapters? Well, The Avengers will be next week, and that'll probably help me out with Clint's portion, which is next.
> 
> I think the timeline is still fairly obvious with this chapter :)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> Sadie out.


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